#weirdly enough i kinda feel better now than i have all day

[blue-jisungs]

silent hug

author's note. this is veeeery self indulgent bc my exams r killing me so yeah 👍

genre. hurt to comfort (i think?), classmates to friends ??? idk man just whipped n cute sunoo

summary. in which your classmate comforts you when you tear up in class :(

warnings. cursing, reader is in a bad place mentally,, kinda hinting to academic burnout? ,, crying :( + not proofread, sorry!!

word count. 1286

with a heavy sigh you plopped down on the chair, putting your bag on the desk. the walk from the bus stop to the university tired you out but at least you got four or five minutes before the classes started. so you rested your head against the bag and closed your eyes, taking in a little more sleep than you could get this morning.

the final season is coming to an end, finally. but weirdly enough, you don’t feel relieved. sure, there’s only three or four exams left – and you haven’t really studied for them but that’s a thing to do the day before, isn’t it? – but you can’t help but feel the exhaustion. your friends chat about how there’s less things to take then it was at the beginning, sure. but the closer you get to the midterm break, the less motivation you have. and the tiredness that accumulated throughout the whole month is seeking its way out.

which is why you’re a mess nowadays. promising yourself to study but ending up doing everything but studying, falling asleep at ungodly hours (and regretting it later)… or shutting yourself down from the world. your friends got used to it, everyone has their lives after classes after all. but you carry on with do not disturb on most of the time, missing out their conversations on chats and tiktoks they’ve sent you. sure, you could’ve read them later – but there’s a sinking feeling of guilt (and a dazzle of overthinking) that you’re such a shitty friend.

all of this causes your negative emotions to bottle up. and you know it’s not a good thing, especially when you feel like you’re about to cry when a minor inconvenience occurs. but you’re stronger than that, no? the thought of locking yourself in your room during the break keeps you alive, pushing the sadness – seemingly – away.

a sudden tap on your shoulder caused you to open your eyes and lazily shift your focus to your classmate, sunoo. you looked around and didn’t see your friends… well, they probably skipped the classes since some of them are careless just like that.

"it’s about to start" sunoo smiled gently and you noticed the way his ebony gaze lingered on you for a while longer. great, you should’ve put at least some foundation.

"thanks" you nodded and took out your ipad, the other hand rubbing your eye. here we go…

"i feel like… some people in this class don’t take my lessons seriously" the professor started and you froze, heart skipping a beat. he couldn’t possibly mean you, right? “the final exam is around the corner and some of you… did not too well on the quiz"

oh, well. it’s definitely aimed at you.

"i’ll hand them out at the end of the class and then run over your mistakes. now we’ll do a revision. and you better listen" the man says and you could swear his piercing gaze is drilling into your soul.

an unpleasant feeling of warmth creeped into your face and once again you curse yourself for not putting any makeup. sunoo glanced at you, a sad smile on his lips.

the professor approached you at the end, when all of the students already left. putting the paper sheet with a nasty P– on it, you frowned. hey, you passed!

"y/n, i’m really disappointed. i don’t know what’s going on but that’s the worst work of yours so far. pull yourself together. there’s so many major mistakes… spellings… it’s not an academic level. you were one point away from not passing this one" his words hit a cord in your heart, your palms beginning to sweat. he patted the paper and returned to his desk, grabbing his stuff.

and you didn’t even know when that happened – your sweaty palms shaking, breath getting stuck in your throat, vision blurry because of tears.

you packed your things and wanted to leave but your legs felt too weak. your professor left, causing you to end up all alone in the room.

you sniffed, trying to wipe out the tears but they seemed to have other plans.

"don’t cry, idiot. it’s fucking embarrassing" you breathed out to yourself, voice barely above a whisper.

"y/n, if you want… oh. are you okay?"

you would normally look up to see who that was but the realization of someone even seeing you in such state caused your face to redden even more. pulling your t-shirt up to hide your face in it, you felt like there was no way out: you couldn’t possibly stop crying. it was like your professor’s words triggered something.

"i’m… hey, it’s okay. did he say anything bad to you? or do?" someone approached you and you shook your head as a no. "can i stay here?"

you hesitantly peeled from your shirt and noticed sunoo. his gaze softened upon seeing your teary eyes, lashes wet and flushed face.

"just… don’t mind me" you mumbled and hid your face in your shirt again. you just couldn’t stand someone seeing you in such state, whether it was someone close or a stranger.

"i… i don’t know what he said but i’ve noticed that there’s something going on with you. and may have heard what your friends said... do you want to talk about it?" sunoo asked gently and all he could hear were the harsh sobs leaving your lips.

"they talk about me behind my back?" you whined, your shoulders shaking even more. his eyes widened. that was not the best thing to say…

"no, no! i mean they said you look really tired lately…" he explained hastily and suddenly you looked up. your shirt was soaked with tears and your face was a mess, your pupils blown and wet stains on your cheeks.

"i’m so tired, sunoo. i don’t think i can handle this anymore… and everyone seems to be doing great… just not me…" you mumbled, sending him a sad smile. the pearly tears balanced at the edge of your waterline, ready to spill. he shook his head.

"you’ve got this, i know you do. you got here somehow in the first place, no? if you want, i can help you. with anything. i’m not the smartest but i do understand some things so…" he stopped talking upon seeing your curious gaze.

"why are you doing this?” you asked, sniffling.

"i just… you’re my classmate in a need of help. i couldn’t stand there and not do anything when i heard you cry. and now there’s no way out, isn’t it?" sunoo joked and his face lit up. oh, this boy was a literal sunshine.

"you said everything?" you mumbled, unsurely. he nodded, a caring smile tugging on his lips "can… hmpfh… can i hug you…?"

the words were so quiet, sunoo barely heard them. but he noticed the begging look in your eyes and who was he to deny? it’s not like he would mind, either.

sunoo just opened your arms and you hugged him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist. he patted your back soothingly, letting you let out all of your pent up stress.

a part of sunoo’s heart raced because he wouldn’t have ever imagined that he would hug his hallway crush. the other part which caused his heart to race was the embrace itself, your smell and you in general – and he was happy he could help you.

neither of you didn’t have to talk right now. a silent hug that expressed more than a sentences could ever. and both of you knew, sitting here glued to each other and in comfortable silence, that it was a beginning of a beautiful friendship.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ocean-minho ,, @s-e-s-a-l-e-n-e ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

[cheesecakethots]

i can just imagine a very lonely and sad reader scrolling through internet forums and random group chats trying to find some companionship. even at its more superficial level and with that “friendship” barely lasting a few conversations before it’s back to ghosting, yet you’re desperate to cover up this emptiness that you’re willing to take whatever you can have.

then this is where chrollo comes into the picture. can’t really get into the logistics of it, but at some point you’re in some deep dark part of the internet. somewhere you’re not supposed to be in, but you’re feeling daring that day and an extra level of misery. suddenly you stumble upon a listing of an obscure book published a long time ago, somewhere on the black market that’s going for an absurd amount of money. you feel confident enough to comment something like, “a million for this shit? a freshly harvested liver isn’t even worth this. lower the price.” you’re itching for a fight. then in just a few hours, you didn’t expect to debate about books and other eye rolling shit over the internet with some dude who thinks he’s better than you.

he, chrollo but you don’t know him yet, is so pretentious you want to gouge your eyes out. but out of spite you are not backing down. he’s debating you on proust or whatever his name is. you don’t read a whole lot anyway, so you’re pulling out of your ass. he finds you funny, witty, and endearing in your own weirdly charismatic way. and you find him irritating because he never shuts up. it’s this weird dynamic of back and forth banter that has no apparent end. should you be glad that in the years you’ve been searching for a friend, this one has managed to stuck with you this far along? how long has it been since you two have started talking? a few weeks at least, and the argument is still fresh and it’s about philosophy now, which is even more mind-numbing. but this guy knows how to keep a conversation going at least. you feel more annoyed that this asshole is the only person willing to talk to you, instead of any other rando with manners and actual substance to their personality. but you can’t really complain, at least you have one friend.

it’s mostly him who hits you up, not you. and it’s mostly at unusual times. he has a pattern of texting you around midnight to early in the morning, even if you tell him not to disturb you a billion times, so you don’t respond right away. but when you do, he’s sent a myriad of long paragraphs of some shit you can’t really bother to comprehend. you respond with and eye rolling emoji and this headache responds instantaneously. it’s no brainer that sooner or later, he’ll be interested enough to track you down and find every piece of information about you.

anon go write a fic NOW

i love this sm like becoming kinda frenemies with chrollo online, seeing him as this dude who is really annoying but also charming in a way? you’re constantly drawn back to conversations with him because they’re just so enriching, especially compared to the boring chats you’ve had with the very few ‘friends’ you have.

soon enough he starts debating over things you like. huh, he also reads that really obscure manga that has a total of 100 reads? cool! oh wow, he’s played that one game you’ve played so much you can practically quote it word for word? nice!

it gets weirder the more you talk, but you don’t really notice all that much, and if you do you choose to ignore it. he’s one of the first real friends you’ve had in a long time.

you’ll come back from work into your lonely and quite shabby apartment, making sure to place locks on your door. it’s a bad neighbourhood. huh, it’s a bit chilly. you could’ve sworn you shut the window? well… nothing looks to be stolen. weird.

you’ll sit down, and ready up your old and dying laptop, grinning a little despite the tiredness in your bones and bags under your eyes. the friend you speak to online, chrollo, is usually on around this time. it’s always nice to have a chat with him after you get in. you seemingly haven’t managed to rile him up, but you swear you’re getting close.

just got back from work. what you were saying about that passage in chapter 27 is totally wrong, btw. you should maybeeee get ur facts straight before trying to debate with me about it >:)

you miss the sound of a soft chime behind you after you send the message, opening up a streaming service so you can watch an episode of something before bed.

a message pops up on your screen.

how about a debate in person, [name]?

your eyebrows crinkle together. what a weirdo.

as you put on an episode, your monitor goes black for just a moment, but that’s all you need to see the reflection of a figure looming behind you.

[tropes-and-tales]

If You Weren't You, Part Two

Day 1:  Hate sex (Benny Magalon x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Light angst, kinda; smut (PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  5618

AN:  This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by @thesandbeneathmytoes!)

The weekend passes uncomfortably for Benny Magalon.

He has the usual bullshit chores to catch up on.  He gets groceries, does his laundry.  He calls home, gets the updates on his family from his mom.  He goes through the pile of mail that accumulated on his table during the week.

Every idle moment, his mind drifts to you.  That moment with you, specifically.  The moment of insanity.

Nighttime is the worst.  He doesn’t fall asleep easily anyway, but Saturday night, Sunday night…it takes longer than usual to drift off.  He keeps replaying that moment.  In the darkness of his room, he swears he can exactly remember the weirdly tender way you touched him—your hand in his hair, the gentle way you kissed him. 

The way he made you laugh—really laugh—when he jokingly accused you of getting turned on by being mean to him.

The curiously hurt look on your face afterwards when he implied that fucking you was some bottom-of-the-barrel situation for him.  It was inexplicable, the hurt in your expression, because Benny hadn’t thought you were capable of feeling hurt.  You were too cool, too dispassionate…or so he thought.

Sunday night stretches out long and uncomfortable.  The minutes tick by slow, and he’s no closer to falling asleep.  In only a few hours he’ll have to get up, get dressed, and face you. 

“Goddammit,” he mutters in the darkness of his room, and he rolls over, punches his pillow into shape, and tries to push you out of his head.

-----

He doesn’t have to face you Monday morning.  Lobbin’ Bob is the one leading the morning debrief, and you are nowhere to be found. 

Benny finds out later that you are with the LAPD, plying your charm to get some case files they have on the suspect on a separate case.  Right now, though, he’s just relieved to not have to see you. 

He and Big Nick go outside after the debrief to head back to Major Crimes.  His boss looks awful—he hits those Friday parties hard and never seems to have enough time to recover.  Nick gestures to Benny to wait a moment, and he leans against his truck, slides a pack of smokes out of his coat pocket.  He lights a cigarette with a grumble, then tosses the pack and lighter to Benny.

They smoke together in silence for a beat.  God only knows what Big Nick is thinking. 

Benny?  He’s thinking he’s dodged a bullet, but that he’ll have to face you soon enough. 

Big Nick takes a deep drag of his cigarette.  “Sorry about Friday night,” he says.  “You drew the short straw.”

Benny flicks the ash off of his own cigarette.  “S’ fine.”

“You missed a good party.”  A beat.  “So how was she?  Lobbin’ Bob’s pet ice queen?”

He shrugs.  He refuses to tell his boss about that moment of madness in the backseat of your SUV, the weirdly tender moment that turned sour as soon as you both put your pants back on. 

“Same as always,” he replies.

Big Nick chuckles, shakes his head.  “You know, I’m all for women in law enforcement.  Equal rights and all that shit.  But I hate it when they get too high on themselves.  The way she marches around, acting like she’s better than everyone…there’s no room for ego in this game.”

Benny bites his tongue, doesn’t point out that Big Nick has the biggest ego of anyone.  How he insists on being the center of attention, the center of any moment.  The Sheriff’s department resident bad boy who get results at the cost of….well, everything.  At the cost of good procedures and policies, at the cost of his family, at the cost of his detectives’ personal lives…

“She needs taken down a notch or two,” Big Nick says.  “Think we should be the ones to do it.”

Benny has witnessed plenty of his boss’s pranks and mean-spirited jokes.  Big Nick plays rough.

He remembers the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair, the soft way you pulled him to you to kiss him.  The startling sound of your laughter.

“Nah, leave it,” he tells Big Nick, but he should know better—Nick does what Nick wants, and tough shit to anyone who doesn’t like it.

*****

You learned how to compartmentalize things when you were just a kid, and the knack for it serves you well in adulthood—in your personal life, but especially in your job.

When you make the terrible decision to fuck Detective Magalon, that decision straddles both your personal and professional life, which makes it harder to shove away in a box and forget it…but you’re a pro at sealing off unhappy moments, sliding them into some cobwebbed corner of your mind, so that’s exactly what you do.

You seal off that moment with Magalon, you push it away, you start to forget it.

Monday:  you spend the better part of the day with LAPD, sifting through evidence tangentially related to your case.

Tuesday:  you testify in an unrelated case, drive up to Sacramento and walk a judge and jury through your investigation from months ago.

Wednesday:  you return to the office and the case at hand.  The LAPD sent over all of their casework while you were in the state capitol, boxes of evidence, so you sigh and settle in for a day of combing through it all.  It’s a proverbial needle in a haystack, but you aren’t alone for long.

An hour into it, you’ve only just ordered the boxes and cracked open the first one.  There’s a knock at the door of your office, and Bob peeks his head in.

“Hey, the Sheriff’s Department sent over one of their detectives to help you sort through the evidence,” he said.  He shook his head, chuckled.  “I tried to tell O’Brien that we didn’t need any help, but he’s afraid of getting iced out.”

You roll your eyes and hope the gesture covers the way your stomach cramps and twists.  You know it’s going to be Magalon.  That shoved-away, boxed-up memory resurfaces—the gentle way he had cradled the top of your head in your SUV, the way he had smiled down at you…then how he had insulted you right after, and how hard that stung.

“It’s fine,” you lie to Bob.

“Good.”  He raps his fist against the doorjamb.  “He’s on his way up.  Play nice, but if you need me, just call.”

“Will do,” you reply, and you have only a handful of minutes to compose yourself:  to pull on a neutral face, to take some steadying breaths, and then Detective Magalon—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Stupid—is in your doorway with an inscrutable expression on his face.

*****

You’re quiet all day.  Through the morning, through lunch and into the afternoon—you say so little.  The sum total of your conversation is you asking him what he wants for lunch, then you calling out to an assistant to place the order.

You eat in silence.  You work in silence.  Benny goes outside to smoke a cigarette, and he finds his hands tremble to light it.  He lingers outside as long as he thinks he can, and he returns to your office slowly, drags his feet.

Your silence is unnerving.  It holds weight and takes up space, like a third entity in the room with the two of you.  Benny’s not used to women being so quiet when they’re pissed at him—and you must be pissed at him.  Women he’s done wrong, they usually yell at him, scream at him, come at him like wildcats.

You just sit there and page through wire-tap records, witness interviews, phone records.  You don’t avoid eye contact with him but you don’t stare him down.  You’re perfectly neutral, exactly down the middle of the line.

His weird guilt and unease shifts back to a more familiar feeling:  irritation.  Lobbin’ Bob’s goddamned pet ice princess.  Fussily perfect, completely boring.  You drink water all day to stay hydrated.  You brush and floss your teeth after lunch.  When you get a headache, you pull open a desk drawer—neatly organized—and shake out a single tablet of ibuprofen that you toss back with a practiced flick of the wrist.

You’re a goddamned robot, not even a real person, and Benny hates that you took up so much space in his head over the weekend.  He hates that he felt a burgeoning guilt over what he had said after your hookup; he hates that he felt nervous to see you again.  He hates that he lost a single moment of sleep over you.

The sun reaches its apex and starts its slide into the west.  The quiet murmur of office noise dies off on the other side of your door.  Benny’s concentration wanes too; the numbers on the phone logs he’s combing start to blur together.  His thoughts drift off to other things.  He starts to fiddle with his phone, restlessly scrolling through his email, his texts, the handful of bare-bones social media he has.

You glance up at him from your pile of paperwork when his phone chimes—a text from Big Nick—and Benny feels your eyes on him.  When he looks up from replying to Nick, he catches your studious look, your arched brow.

But you say nothing, so when you bend your head back to the task at hand, he goes ahead and breaks the onerous silence with a terse, “we gonna be much longer?”

“Big Nick got a line on some coke and hookers?”

There it is.  Finally.  He pushes a hard exhale through his nose and shakes his head.  “That wasn’t Big Nick.”  He doesn’t add more to the lie; he’s curious if you’ll think it’s a woman.  He’s curious if any glimmer of jealousy will cross your features.

He’s disappointed a beat later.  Instead of feeling jealous, you seem to see through his ruse but you play along.  Your lips twitch into a ghost of a smile. 

“Oh, a hot date, then?”  The smile widens, and you lift a hand towards your closed door.  “If you leave now, you won’t lose your deposit on her.”

Another huffed out breath, and his irritation rachets up a degree.  He hates your implications around him paying for women, but he hates even more how close to the mark you’ve hit.  He hasn’t paid for it, not in a long while…but there was a time when he had, back when he was freshly-divorced and smarting from it, licking his wounds at their big seedy parties each weekend. 

“Jealous?” he asks, and he hates how lame it sounds as a comeback, but he pairs it with a stony expression.

You nod, and a fake frown replaces your smile, a pouting moue that would be charming on anyone else but you. 

“I’m devastated,” you reply, dead-pan, but then you sigh and look back down at your paperwork.  “No, go ahead and go.”

He would leave if you’d leave, but you seem like you’re staying.  The sun is almost set now, and your office is darker, but you make no move to box up the remaining evidence.  You seem like you’re hunkering down until the job is done, and that needles at Benny even more.  You’ve always obliquely—and not so obliquely—implied that you are the better cop.  That he and the Major Crimes assholes are reckless tramplers of the law, and that you and Lobbin’ Bob are upstanding examples of law enforcement.

“You coming?” he asks.  He stands up but doesn’t move towards the door.

“No.”

“It’s late.”

You tilt your head but don’t look up at him.  “I’ve worked later than this.”

The implication, Benny hears, is that he’s never worked late before, and he bristles at your tone.  “There’s probably nothing here,” he replies, and he gestures at the boxes of evidence from the LAPD case.  “Leave it.”

You snort, and you finally lift your head.  You stare at him dead-on, no blinking.  “That’s excellent police work, Detective.  ‘There’s probably nothing here.’”  You repeat his words back to him in a startingly good impression of him, his lazy California accent and soft voice, and he bristles even more.

“This stuff was always a long shot,” he argues.

“Long shots pay off all the time.  Some cases are built on long shots.”

“So you’re gonna stay here and finish?”  He glanced over at the boxes you haven’t gotten to yet.  There’s three of them.  You’ll be here all night.  He feels that familiar sting of guilt, and then he feels pissed, like you’re manipulating him into staying longer, even though you’ve been beating him with your silence all day—

“Yup.  I am.”

“Well, I’m leaving.”  He takes a step towards your door but goes no further because that fucking guilt keeps him rooted in place.  The thought of you spending a lonely night with boxes of evidence, and he’s supposed to be your partner in this—

“C��mon, let’s just go,” he adds.  “We can hit it tomorrow fresh.”

“Tomorrow I have to hit something else,” you reply.  There’s tension in your voice, a tightness to your words.  You’re getting irritated with him now.  “And the next day there’s something else.  I have to get through this now or it won’t get done.”

“Shit, there’s nothing—”

“Christ, Magalon!”  You snap, sudden, and it makes him jolt where he stands.  You toss your pen aside and bring your fist down on your desktop like a hammer, and the display of anger makes him take a half step away from you.  You stand up, round around your desk, and you go to your door and yank it open.

“Go.”  You stand in the doorway and point out of it, and you actually fucking snap your fingers as you point, like he’s a recalcitrant dog caught chewing on the furniture.

“Jesus, calm down—”

The words slip out despite knowing that telling any woman to calm down always elicits the opposite reaction:  you actually stamp your foot on the floor, and it’d be cute as shit, how feisty you’re getting out of nowhere, but you’re you, and he’s been ready to leave for hours, exhausted by the boring work and the frustration to be paired with you again.

“Get out,” you tell him.  “I’ll finish it up myself.”

“I only—”

“I don’t need any excuses.  Seriously, Magalon.  Go home.  Go find O’Brien or your band of merry assholes.”

He should leave.  He wants to.  You’re back to being a bitch, a living cold front that leaves him chilled by your silence and your judgement.  He’s completely free to stalk away; he has no obligation to stay and suffer more.  Except…

…except you’ve been calling him by his name all day.  Calling him by his title.  Magalon.  Detective.  You’ve dropped the pretense of calling him the wrong name, the pretense of conflating him with his Major Crimes teammates—the message that they’re all the same, interchangeable, identical in their awfulness.

Does it mean you see him as himself now?  Did he lay you well enough to distinguish himself from the pack and earn that scant bit of respect—razor-thin, admittedly—that you use his last name now?

“Calm down,” he repeats, and this time it’s intentional.  He’s rewarded by more outrage:  you stamp your foot again (it is cute, he decides now, because you’re usually so collected).  You actually go so apoplectic that when you open your mouth to respond, nothing comes out.  You glare at him gape-mouthed, and nothing comes out, so he adds, “shit, you need laid again?  You already missing it after a few days?”

Your eyes go wider, and you huff out a breath so heavily that your nostrils flare at the effort.  “Shut up.”

It’s not a no.  Benny smirks at you, and your eyes narrow into slits at his expression.

“Just go,” you seethe, like you’re pushing the words out between your clenched jaw.  “Seriously, don’t leave whoever waiting.  Your date.  O’Brien.  Whoever.”

“I can spare you five minutes.”

You snort, roll your eyes.  “What’s that come to, four minutes of foreplay and a minute of action?”

This is cute too, he decides.  You talking shit about his game when you know better.  You acting like you don’t know how he is, like you don’t have the first-hand experience of him pretty effortlessly coaxing an orgasm from you—

“Aw, sweetheart.”  His smirk widens, and he reaches out to trace a fingertip down the curve of your face.  “You know that isn’t true.”

You swat away his hand and make a dismissive tsch sort of noise, but you don’t reply.  He lifts his hand again, traces his forefinger across the neckline of your blouse.  He doesn’t touch you, but he’s close, and when you go to swat him away again, he catches your hand in his.  Pulls you towards him, takes you off your balance until you sway closer to him.

“C’mon,” he says.  “Five minutes, then we leave, and hit those few boxes fresh in the morning.”

He sees that you’re tempted.  He sees the way your expression wavers, and he isn’t sure if you’re more tempted by him or the prospect of not spending the night in your office…but either way, he’s snaking his way around the wall you have up, and you’re wavering—

“C’mon.”  He drops his voice to a low rumble right by your ear, and he catches the way your breathing picks up, the rise and fall of your chest quickening.  “I know you’re already wet, sweetheart.  You’ve been mean to me all day.  You must be.”

It makes you laugh, and just like that night in your SUV, it startles him.  It’s such a rare sound, he guesses.  It’s throaty and low but loud, punched-out.  Just like before, he feels a thrill of pride to draw it out of you.  He bets it’s a rarer thing to make you laugh than to make you come, and he’s done both.

“I haven’t been mean to you at all,” you point out.  “I’ve barely talked.”

“Silent treatment can hurt.”

Another eye-roll.  “You complained the other day that I talk too much.  Now it’s not enough.”

A fair point:  he did snap at you that night, right before he kissed you.  He doesn’t want to rehash it at the moment.  His own arousal is awake, powering up, so he lifts his eyebrows at you and says, hopeful, “so?”

“So what?”

“Five minutes, then we go?”

“Fuck off.”  You move past him, out of the doorway and back into your office.  “You just want more ammo for your asshole buddies.  Tell ‘em all about hooking up with the ice princess or whatever.”

Benny shuts the door to your office, but he’s on the wrong side of it.  He takes the few steps to follow you and says, “I didn’t tell them.”

Another one of your bitter tsch sounds.  “Because it’s embarrassing.  Yeah, I know.  You already—”

“It isn’t their business.”  He cuts you off, and if he’s been teasing you before, he’s deadly serious now.  It isn’t their business.  Not Henderson, not Z, not Connors.  Certainly not Big Nick.  He chafes under their closeness sometimes, hates that they work and party together so much that it feels like he has no privacy.  But this thing—a one-time hook-up that maybe is burgeoning into more—belongs to the two of you.  You and Benny.  No one else.  He tells you so, in far fewer words.

You don’t believe him.  You finally turn and watch him, and the expression in your eyes is pure wariness.  Underneath it, though, he swears he sees a glint of something else, something not easily defined—

“Come on,” he says.  He sounds whiny but he doesn’t care.  “You keep scrapping with me, and we could already be fucking.”

It makes you smile.  It blossoms across your face like you can’t help it, and in the moment Benny just thinks got you, sweetheart, but afterwards he’ll think about how your smile, rare as it is, holds no artifice, not a single ounce of guile.  He’ll think, later on, how your smile transforms your entire face from one of a brittle sort of prettiness to something extraordinarily beautiful.

“Fine,” you answer him, and if you weren’t you, it’d be adorable how you act like you’re put out, like you’re doing him a favor.  “Lock the door then, Magalon.”

-----

The interlude in your SUV wasn’t romantic by any stretch, but you try to make this moment even less so.  At least that first time, it started with him kissing you, you kissing him back.  Now, you’re all business, and he stares for a beat as he watches you kick off your shoes, as you start to unbutton your pants.

“Damn, slow down,” he says.

“You have five minutes.”  You push your pants down, give a little shimmy to get them over your hips, over your ass.  You get them off but you shake them out and hang them over your chair, fussy as ever.

Benny closes the gap between you, and he manages to reach down and still your hands before you can get your panties off.  He clasps them and draws them up, presses them to his chest. 

“Slow down,” he repeats.  He says it softer, almost a whisper, and it makes you lift your gaze to find him.

The corner of your mouth quirks into a near-smile.  “Well, now you have four—”

He doesn’t let you finish.  He bends his head and cuts off your smart-ass mouth with a kiss, steals the words from you.  Your lips are just as soft as that night, and when he groans at the feel of them, he feels them curve into a smile.  A beat later, he feels the sharp line of your teeth nipping at him, not very hard, and then the tip of your tongue tracing along his lower lip.

Benny releases your hands.  He wraps one around the back of your neck to hold you to him.  He places the other on your waist, and he pushes his fingers under the hem of your shirt to revel in the feel of your skin—soft, and so warm that you feel almost feverish.

You?  You don’t romance it beyond kissing him, but you’re eager.  He can feel it shimmering off of you like heat on pavement on a summer’s day.  Your hands reach down on him; one fumbles at his belt and the button and fly of his jeans while the other cups him through the denim.  He inhales sharply at your touch, even through the layers of clothing.  He breaks the kiss a moment later when you snake your hand under his jeans and his boxers—the sudden feeling of your warm palm on his cock, coaxing him from half-hard to fully erect.

“Eager.  Knew you missed me,” he gloats.  He tries to catch your eye but you avoid him, shake your head.

“Shut up,” you mumble, and it’s defensive, and it could lead to you stopping this whole encounter and putting that wall up around you again, so he leaves it be and kisses you again.

Benny wonders what it would be like to take his time with you.  This is paltry; it’s a meager mouthful, barely enough to sate any appetite.  When he hoists you onto the edge of your desk and pushes into you—you’re already wet, just as he had guessed, so you must get turned on by scrapping with him—it feels just as amazing as before.  Your pussy is molten, velvety, gripping him like a fist until he grits his teeth so he doesn’t embarrass himself and come too soon…

…yet he wonders how much better it would be to take his time.  To have the luxury of time and space and privacy, to strip you completely naked and see what you really look like.  He’d love to edge you, he thinks.  He’d love to see you stretched out on a bed, back arching away from the mattress as he pushes you to the precipice of your orgasm only to deny you at the last moment.  He’d love to strip away every bit of ego you have, every bit of smugness that sets you higher than him in your own opinion.  He’d love to frustrate you completely in bed, would love to see your eyes leaking tears, that mean mouth of yours begging him so sweetly…

…because even like this, once he gets his cock in you, you turn so nice.  It gentles you, rounds off the sharp bits and edges of you.  Your face goes soft with wonder.  Your eyes go soft when you meet his gaze.  As he fucks you—sharp thrusts, steady pace—you tilt your face up to him, and you look so unlike yourself that he kisses you again.  You sigh into it, hold him tighter where your arms are wrapped around his shoulders to help hold yourself steady at the awkward angle.

Neither of you say much else.  He wraps an arm around your waist as he drives into you, and you mumble when you’re close but he already knows:  as inscrutable as you are, as placid as your face can be when you’re masking yourself around him, your body is an open book.  He feels like he’s tuned in perfectly to whatever wavelength you’re operating on.  He hears the way your breathing picks up, feels how your kisses get sloppier as you sink into the sensation of your approaching orgasm.  He feels how your cunt grips him tighter, how your arousal coats him and makes it easier to bottom out in you.

He tells you he’s close too, and that’s about the sum of your conversation for the rest of the night:  you come a beat later, with a keening whine that sets him off and gives him barely enough time to pull out before he’s painting your belly with his cum. 

You’re both quiet afterwards.  He resists the urge to kiss your forehead before he parts from you.  You might be resisting a similar urge, because you pat him awkwardly on his shoulder in a “way to go, sport” sort of way.  But neither of you say much as you clean up, dress, reassemble yourselves.  You’re both silent as you leave together, likely remembering how quickly shit turned mean the last time you fucked.

“Hit the rest of the evidence tomorrow morning?” he asks, and you meet his gaze and then nod. 

You turn towards where your SUV is parked, but you turn back a beat later, tell him to drive safely. 

*****

The case progresses slowly. 

You and Benny continue…well, whatever it is, you continue it.

It gives you whiplash.  The mean sniping with each other, the insults and barbs you trade.  He still follows the ice princess routine, the prissy, bland, clean-living routine.  He makes wild assumptions about your life—accuses you of loving beige, of being boring, of decorating your home in “live, laugh, love” décor.  His speculations about your sex life—as it exists outside of your hookups with him, that is—make you sound repressed and tedious.  You fuck white-collar men, he claims.  With the lights off.  Missionary.  Through a hole in the sheet.

All of that contrasted against how he’s kinda, sorta nice when you hook up.  He kisses you nicely, helps you clean up afterwards.  You tend to fuck in inconvenient places that test your flexibility, and Magalon is nice about it, considerate to take as much of the discomfort as he can rather than let you twist or strain to make it work.

Tall, Dark, and Stupid.  He is capable of being nice, you guess.  Who would have thought?

Only capable of it, though.  It’s not an innate character trait, you assume.  He’s still a mean asshole, snarky, and sometimes his words hit their target dead on and other times they only glance off of you.  You’re never sure when they’re going to hurt and when they’re going to make you laugh.

Once, you hook up in your office again, quiet because it’s the lunch hour and there’s twenty fellow FBI agents on the other side of your locked office door.  Magalon makes a crude joke afterwards about how you need to take a day off to meet up with your waxer, and your anger at the double standard—this dude who rolls around Los Angeles in a flannel with scruffy facial hair, judging you—washes through you immediately.  You open your mouth to argue because his judgement still stings, still makes you feel small and unworthy, but you catch him holding back a smile.  His stupid dimple gives him away, and he reaches down and smacks your ass lightly before he goes to leave.

“Save that feistiness for next time,” he tells you, and he drops you a wink, and you hate that he knows you will hold onto his comment, that you will likely visit your salon before you see him again.  You hate that he’ll see the results and smirk knowingly. 

You hate that he’ll know he is capable of getting to you.

Another time, he hurries you along.  It’s early evening, and he’s watched the clock all afternoon.  It’s distracting and keeps your orgasm frustratingly out of reach, like you can brush your fingertips against it but not get a firm grip.  You do what you always do, then:  you gasp beside his ear, you bear down.  You fake it.

You think he probably knows, because he peers at you through narrowed eyes right before he comes, and you hate that he’s savvy enough about your body to know the difference between the real thing and faking.

“Got somewhere to be,” he tells you as you clean up.  You hear the rustle of his jeans, the clink of his belt buckle. 

“Well, don’t let me hold you up.”

“Got a date,” he adds, and you catch the sidelong glance he gives you.  No dimples though.  You wonder if it’s true or if he’s riling you up.

“Lucky girl.”  You perch on the edge of your desk and pull your shoes back on.

“You sound jealous.”

“I’m not.”  You aren’t.  You’re relieved to find the thought of Magalon going on a date with someone else doesn’t spark any emotion at all.  You’ve done a lot of dumb things lately—chiefly the detective standing in your office, zipping up his pants—but at least catching feelings for said detective isn’t one of them.

“You sure?”  He peers at you again, and his face is back to its usual stoic stoniness.  Not a hint of smile, and you can’t read whatever is going on behind his dark eyes.

“Be sure to hold the door open for her,” you advise him.  “Women love basic politeness.”

“If you’re jealous…”

“I’m not.  Go.  Have fun.”  You shoo him away.  You sit down at your desk, not wanting to leave with him and go through this jealous-or-not-jealous routine in the parking lot too.  You see him out of the corner of your eye while he lingers in your doorway, and then he’s gone.

You don’t catch the faint hurt, the disappointment on his face when he leaves, like he was hoping you’d be jealous of the thought of him out with another woman, wining and dining her properly instead of just hate-fucking her. 

And he, of course, isn’t there later to see when the jealousy finally does hit you.  It’s just a small feeling; there’s no wild tears or tight chest.  You’re already home and walking your dog when it hits.  You imagine him out with a nameless woman, and you fill in all the features based on where you find yourself lacking:  this nameless woman has smaller, perkier tits, a better ass, a perfectly landscaped pussy.  She oozes warmth and openness.  No one has ever accused her of being an ice princess.  She has a complete, happy family:  parents who are still married and still very much in love, an older sister, a younger brother.  By the time you’re done walking the dog, you have written an entire history for this nameless woman, and the sting of jealousy needles deeper.

“It’s just fucking,” you remind yourself in bed that night, chiding yourself for getting so worked up over nothing.  “It’s just hate sex.”

Still, maybe this is the moment you need to end it.  It’s just a bad idea all around.  Magalon says he’s never told his buddies, but you can’t be sure and you certainly don’t trust him.  Hooking up isn’t against the rules, per se, but you’d hate the judgment that would spring up around the office.  It also distracts you when your attention should be elsewhere; the thought of prior hook-ups, the promise of more.  And now that you know he’s seeing other people outside of this thing you have, you’d have to make him wear a condom anyway.  No sense in putting yourself at risk.

“Easier to just end it,” you mumble as you roll over, tuck your hands under your pillow and try to make yourself comfortable.

Yes, that’s what you’ll do.  You’ll just end it.  Cold-turkey.  No need to make a scene about it.  The next time he reaches for you, you’ll just gently and firmly decline.  You’re not really the sort of woman to go for hate-fucking anyway, so breaking off your thing with Magalon is just you getting back to who you really are. 

A temporary break from sanity, but now you’re returning to who you are.

[froggibus]

hi! may i request junkerqueen with a s/o who is overworked and kinda anxious about it? need some comfort lol

Overworked! Reader - Kiriko, Junkerqueen & Widowmaker

Genre: fluff + comfort

CW: Widow being inept when it comes to emotions, Hanzo Appearance, Junkerqueen trying her best, very self indulgent tbh

i was weirdly excited to write this + there is *someone* else I know who ALSO tends to overwork themselves and not get enough sleep >~> so maybe if she sees this she’ll cave lol

————

Junkerqueen 

whether it’s for school or work or something else, she doesn’t understand why you’re pushing yourself so hard

you’re such an amazing person!! what more do you have to prove?

she notices the signs a little late tbh but doesn’t want to stress you even more by having a serious conversation 

so she leaves you be 

it isn’t until she notices you constantly shaking your legs/hands and pacing that she feels the need to step in 

“y’alright baby? you seem…stressed.”

you try to reassure her that you’re just so close to finishing this project

but of course you’ve been saying that for the past week

just because you keep taking on more and more work cause you’re scared to say no

“you’re gonna work yourself to death like this, hon.”

she backs off for a bit and you think you can get it done

until she comes back and drapes a blanket around your shoulders and kneels down in front of you

she’s so huge she’s eye level

holds a cup of water to your lips and makes you drink

“you’re taking a break, okay? let’s go take a bath.”

you don’t really get a choice cause it’s come willingly or she will drag you to the bathtub 

rubs your hair and asks you to tell her what you’re thinking as a way to organise your thoughts and settle your anxiety

catches the warning signs way earlier next time and stops it before it gets worse

Kiriko

kiriko herself probably takes on way more work than she can possibly handle for herself 

but that’s ok cause what she’s really worried about is you

when you’re constantly tense and hunched over one document or the next, just trying to memorise everything you need for midterms 

you KNOW all of the material too but you’re so worried you’re gonna forget it all

Kiriko just watches you with a sigh, wondering if she should intervene 

probably asks another chronic overworker (Hanzo) for advice 

comes home one day with all your favourite stuff 

comes up behind you while you’re studying and hugs you tightly 

kissing your neck and rubbing your shoulders 

“let’s take a break baby, okay? i got you ice cream”

literally pries you away from your work and brings you to the couch

brings over all the snacks and drinks she got and starts your favorite movie 

lays on the couch with you on top of her, tugging at your hair and rubbing your back

 Widow

she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to so it’s confusing to her when you’re taking on a bunch of extra work 

“i can’t let them down!”

you’re trying to be calm but she notices the way you’re constantly on the verge of tears 

probably really frustrated on your behalf too

goes and  threatens talks to whoever is forcing all of this extra work on you

when you come home with a lighter work load you’re happier but still anxious, wondering if they’re giving you less cause they’re going to get rid of you

so now she’s confused over your anxiety 

before bed one night and wraps you up in her arms and wraps her legs around you too

it’s weird but the pressure is nice???

“what are you doing”

“your heart is racing, chérie.”

she holds you tightly until you’re relaxed enough to fall asleep 

ponders how she can make you feel better tomorrow morning

masterlist

[hanakihan]

so since @i-bring-crack gave me the idea now I’m having a brainrot so here we are

‘Tired salaryman transmigrates into other world, decides to chill and accidentally completes the main quest without knowing so’, the thread

- jinchul is your average day to day salaryman who’s exceptional in his field but his life is so repetitive and boring he rarely questions what he does daily, even on weekends he mostly sleeps or works because there’s nothing else to do (he’s like me fr—)

- one night he was returning home after a really hard day at work, one of very few instances where he overworked even by his own standards. he was sleepy and tired enough not to notice moon being too bright and shadows dancing at weird angles around him. he did feel like someone was watching him whole way home so he sped up his walking and that’s exactly how he accidentally fell through one of shadows after stepping on it

- he doesn’t remember everything after that that much, but next thing he knows is that he’s laying in a comfortable bed. then apparently he wakes up in a strange room that kinda looks something straight out of historical drama but also something out of those isekai fantasy novels teenagers love to read. which is even more confusing when a man enters the room. that’s when jinchul realizes he has no idea what language this man speaks.

- apparently after several hours of struggling to communicate mostly through sign language and awkward drawings/sketches, jinchul more or less understands that he’s either sleeping after overworking too much or he’s really been thrown into other world (time??) without any knowledge. Go Gun-Hee (as he suspects man’s name is because he pointed at himself and said it several times) was nice enough to host poor man with amnesia and so is his wife. jinchul is a man of gratitude and considering his position he’s more than happy to help around their estate for sheltering him while also borrowing language books from their library. thank god his company made him learn several languages for business reasons.

- after some time jinchul is able to read and talk in their language so living becomes slightly better. history books of this world provide more context so yes, he’s apparently in some kind of different world where magic exists. he should freak out by this point but honestly when freaking out helped in any situation. there’s whole kingdom, there’s local religion, there’s so much he actually needs to memorize. jinchul is actually glad basic accounting rules from his world work here too so with time jinchul becomes gunhee’s accountant.

- jinchul hates coffee but only after arriving here and seeing there’s no such thing as coffee, jinchul realizes he might’ve been a caffeine addict. there was a solid month where he suffered drawback from its absence and it was impossible to even get up from bed. he hates coffee still but he misses it because now all tiredness crushes down on him in one go

- weirdly enough this world does have something akin to coffee beans but no one knows what do with them. just to test out jinchul buys some (under merchant’s questionable stare) and brews them. turns out it tastes almost exactly like coffee, just less bitter and less caffeine. jinchul’s opportunistic mind started to turn gears in his head.

- through some time jinchul now owns a famous shop, only one in whole country to sells and serves coffee related stuff. he’s more than happy with his arrangement, plus he has his own independent income and more free time to visit gunhee and his wife. he also isn’t that healthy (because honestly who’s he to sell coffee at astronomical price like it was back in his world) but he earns enough for living.

- one evening right before closing his shop is visited by a man. jinchul tenses because there’s something familiar about his presence. something from back from his world. something at last moment before he fell here. even is said man is actually nice, just a little stone faced, jinchul is still on high alert. rightfully so because room feels smaller and darker and he can swear he can feel phantom of a cold hand on his neck. it’s suffocating and for the first time here jinchul actually fears for his life.

- man leaves but occasionally returns from time to time to test different coffee and sweets combinations. there’s nothing much happening but jinchul is always uncomfortable. there’s something threatening but not actively so.

- during one of such visits jinchul is absolutely baffled when this unknown man visits his shop again and gifts him rare calming herbal tea leaves and best brand of kingdom’s chocolate. in exchange he asks for best cup of coffee and best desert jinchul can offer. through observations jinchul offers man’s favorites and was right because now everything is less suffocating and stiffening and for some reason jinchul feels like he passed some sort of test. it’s also the evening jinchul finally learns man’s name - sung jinwoo.

- after that it becomes a routine. jinwoo became non hostile and more approachable (as well as being the one to approach) and jinchul uses it as a chance to have a stable source of information about this world.

- (also because I’m a weak dumbass) jinwoo actually remembering when jinchul’s birthday is (even if he mentioned it only once in passing) at night of said birthday jinwoo ungracefully (even if he wanted it to be graceful) falls through jinchul’s window waking him up. jinwoo snatches barely awake jinchul to his palace to celebrate. jinchul is grateful and but also tired and sleepy so it’s mostly a nice late dinner, a present (magically enhanced ring) and a sleepy good night kiss. jinwoo is so shook he just touches his cheek and awkwardly leaves to sleep in a guest room since jinchul fell asleep in his room. once he’s in bed realization crushes down on him. apparently the most fearsome shadow monarch is deeply in love with a destined one to supposedly murder him. jinwoo’s own plan backfired spectacularly.

- jinwoo’s plan: snatch destined one into their world before church can summon him - let him live here for some time and observe him - approach him with malicious intent to see his reaction - if attacks then murder, if not then make him attached - make destined one attached and be in good relationship to keep a close eye on him so he can strike first in case of murder intent - accidentally become the one attached and fall in love with destined one - wait what???

[kabutoden]

i also really liked gamzee back in the day!! i was always kinda upset more effort wasn't put into trying to help him get better- especially when it got to the point an endearing character was just written off to be eternally a villain. so many time shenanigans to help bring back others/help others mental health, and yet gamzee was always just written off as a crazed murderer after a certain point?? felt like he stopped being a character and just became a force of nature. i like your more in depth look into the specific trauma he faced, makes him more like an actual person!

im so glad you like my interpretation of gamzee!! i was always really upset by how he was completely denied redemption after being introduced as a such a sweet and neglected kid who was in touch with his feelings enough to entirely reject acceptance of violence in his society. the narrative treats him really weirdly, i'm so glad i can talk about gamzee redemption+positivity with others!!

another thing i think about a lot is how rage is introduced in the narration as a biological function in highblooded trolls, but gamzee is still seen as culpable for his actions while in the rage state. tbf, its terrifying, but rose was never blamed for being manipulated by doc scratch into becoming grimdark the way gamzee is into becoming rage induced. it's all very weird. but also, i think moirails existing to 'tame a highbloods rage' is completely fucked and victim-blamey in a way, like 'oh you failed to calm his rage that's why he's bad now' and being built this way sets up a negative relationship. karkat's conflicted love and fear of gamzee makes me very sad and i dont think he should have the responsibility of caring for gamzee alone. it bothers me in fics when karkat cares for gamzee alone, because i dont think karkat's feelings for gamzee are unique; karkat's got like, four best friends. more even. sollux, terezi, kanaya, gamzee and dave all end up close to karkat and i think acting as a community would be more important and effective than a lone moralliegence with any one of them. bugs work together moment.

i'm also very invested in stories about creatures coexisting and caring for another who are biologically distinct, which i think i loved about the trolls from when i was 13. i really liked that the trolls were struggling against their 'fates' and the heavy pressure of biological essentialism in their society. i remember reading inverted caste fics where the same traits were instead seen as weaknesses rather than romanticized as strengths and being totally fascinated. thats why in bugstuck rage isnt thrown out as a concept, but instead changed as something similar to a prey drive in animals. some of my original fiction is gonna be all about stuff like this, acting as criticism and discussion of media like zootopia and beastars. im embarrassed to talk so much but thanks for listening! gonna reblog this with some more info

[squircatlies]

Today is the day I unleash my Mr. Bonzo fanart upon this webbed site.

This post is relatively safe up until the cut.

Is the *tips fedora* meme over a decade old? Yes. Do I care? No, absolutely not.

~

Now this is where I recommend "getting off" this post to anyone bothered by graphic depictions of body horror, blood, violence, or Mr. Bonzo (monster, not mascot like above).

I know the first image is silly, but I cannot stress enough how serious I am when I say:

Proceed at your own risk.

Now that you have chosen to continue, I have arranged the images in order of least to most vile and disturbing (though that might be slightly subjective on my part).

Remember that you can click off this post at any time.

Final warning: split tongue Bonzo.

I tried channeling Julia Drawfee with the lineart a little bit. Didn't feel like shading that one, so it's a bit flat.

Where did I lose my colours? Plot twist: the first image in this post is actually the last I've made, so technically I gained the colours. I wanted it to have more of a cheery vibe, unlike the ones under the cut, which I wanted to be kinda dreary and I feel like adding too much colour can mess that up.

Alright, I'll address the tongue. Remember how his head splits in tmagp 12? Yeah, it's a nod to that and also I asked myself "how do I make his design worse than it already is?" and that's the only answer I could come up with. I debated adding stitches connesting the two halves of the tongue but couldn't figure out how, so you're welcome. It will be present in all the upcoming drawings as well.

~

The next one is bloody, but it's not that much worse than the previous one overall.

I was playing with filters after I was done with this piece, because I felt like it lacked something, but didn't know what. Really liked this one, I think it's some sort of a gradient map. It pixelised the image and adjusted the colours a bit, it also really made the blood pop out, though it covered up some of the details.

Why did he lose his hat? It's stupid and hard to draw.

You may have noticed the artstyle change a little, the previous images having neat lineart and little to no shading. That's because I am using different tools, sketchy and soft brushes, that allow me to experiment with lighting and textures more (plus the aforementioned filter altering the image even further).

~

Alright, I feel like this last image deserves a separate warning. It references episode 12 (spoiler ahead), specifically the moment before the bartender loses a hand, though it's not entirely accurate. It's rendered in more detail than any of the previous images, so keep that in mind before scrolling down.

Basically it's pov: Bonzo licks your hand.

I feel like I could've made his tongue bigger in this one, it seems kinda small compared to his mouth. I really like how the skin on his face ended up looking. It took a lot of work.

The spit makes it look weirdly sexual, doesn't it? Listen, that was not my intention, but I'm not erasing it. I set out to make the worst thing I could and, though not without cost, I have achieved it.

I tried splattering Bonzo in blood, but it wasn't really working for me and it covered up a lot of the detail I liked, so I just put it in the background.

The human hand is drawn from reference, which I found by googling "hand reaching out away from the viewer". And let me tell you: google is shit at looking for drawing references, but I figured it was just going to be a sketch to explore an idea, so I didn't bother trying to get a better one. And then I fixated on it for a couple hours, you know, like a normal person.

I literally (and I mean no exaggeration) dusted off my drawing tablet after a few months of no use to spend the entire weekend, after tmagp 12 came out, glued to the screen making those images, except for the b'onzo one, which I made this evening.

Just to clarify: I drew all of those by myself. No filthy AI image generation is allowed in this house. I am capable of committing far greater sins than an artificial intelligence ever will.

The only thing left here is to extend my sincere congratulations/condolences to whoever got this far. It's up to you to either think you're brave or realise that you're foolish for doing so, but be comforted by the fact that at least you didn't make this post, which I cannot say for myself.

[stupidsagestars]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫! 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 can't take his eyes off of you as soon as you enter the meeting room. Your left hand glued to your phone whilst the right gripped onto a few prada bags, casual shopping for a girl like you, he thought. You smiled at him as you took a seat opposite him. "i can't believe I'm trusting you with my house" You scoffed, smiling at your best friend.

"you know I'm gonna do a great job babe." You roll your eyes at his nickname for you. Ever since you had met him in college he had never called you anything else, it was kinda cute.

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫! 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 listens to you as you state your plans with his company. "I'm going for a totally modern look, you get what I mean?" He nods more than he has to, "I'm sure we can get everything done in about 6 months to a year." He says eyes still glued to your face. I mean there was nothing wrong with a little crush on his best friend right? But how cute was it that she trusted him to make her dream house for her, it turned him on quite a bit but to be fair anything she did turned him on.

As the meeting finishes, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫! 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 walks over to you to give you a small handshake but is slightly surprised when you pull him into a small hug.

"ahh I'm so excited to work with you!" You exclaim, finally letting go of the poor man.

He watches you leave the room, talking on the phone to a friend and fiddling with your purse.

"you should shoot your shot sir." His subordinate said putting his hand on his shoulder.

"get the fuck off me." Connie said, giving his subordinate a dirty look before pushing him off.

"I was just trying to help!"

"Look, I get it. You're asking for a wedding invite but you need t wait, I need to get with her first, remember?"

"ohh okay,my bad."

Fast forwards a 10 months, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫! 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞's team had finished building your new home, which just so happened to be on the same street as his own. Connie hummed as he checked his face on the reflection of his sleek,new porsche. He had just signed a major deal which could potentially now make him a billionaire. He noticed you just across the street, sitting on the front steps of your house smoking a cigarette. He decides to walk over to you, giving you a small wave. He takes a seat next to you.

"how the tables have turned. I remember when you used to give me hell for smoking a ciggy." He laughs and you scoff.

"needed a breather." you yawn, leaning onto him. He wraps his around you, admiring your beautiful face.

"why? you upset?" He says frowning.

"nope, happy actually, I feel weirdly surreal like this is all great but it's so much y'know?" you look up at him.

"well I say go with the flow, you're always so serious" He says making a funny face.

"I got some celebration wine, you want some?"

"now we're talking babe."

___

Everyone says Connie's a nice guy, does his job great and is incredibly funny. Not when he's fucking the shit out of you though, turns into a sex monster.

Some innocent drinks leads to him pounding into you in the kitchen like there's no tomorrow.

"it feels so much better knowing that I designed this fucking kitchen." He moans into your ear.

"i bet it does." you say sarcastically, your grip on the kitchen counter loosening from the sheer speed connie was slamming his hips into you. Your legs were shaking and you couldn't close your mouth.

"see, I knew one day I'd fuck you in it, all around this place actually, although I didn't think you'd fold this early." He brags. This was not a lie, all those times he spent going over design with his co-worker, he made sure it was perfect,sturdy counter, enough space for a big sofa, huge room for a huge and comfortable bed and lastly an insanely modern bathroom.

He could feel himself getting slower and sloppier with his thrusts as his orgasm came closer. ,

"You close?" He asks licking your ear.

You whine in response, "thought so." He says unable to stop his teasing.

After you both reach your releases, Connie quickly throws away his condom and placed you on the counter.

"I'm starving." He mumbles, sticking his tongue out. He swirls his tongue around your pussy, relishing your taste. He notices you unconsciously try and close your thighs, too loss in pleasure.

"babe don't close your fucking legs, you taste way to fucking good." he uses one hand to push your thigh even wider and brings the other up to your pussy.

He stops for a second and you feel like you're about to cum just from the sight of him. Your cums all over his mouth,scratch marks and hickeys on his neck. He's looking at you so lewdly.

"What's the world record for an orgasm?" He says looking at you, eyes bright with mischief. You blink at him multiple times, what the fuck??That's why he stopped?

You look at him, knowing exactly what he's getting at.

"You can't be fucking serious." You groaned.

"Would you cum for longer if I fingered and ate you out at the same time?"

"You're being serious. Okay time's up." You kick him off you and walk to take a shower.

"Wait!! Y/N LET'S TRY IT OUT!! COME ON IT'LL BE FUN." He runs after you. "CAN WE AT LEAST SHOWER TOGETHER??"

---★--- i tried something else out this time, with Connie's personality really shining through in this one, not just serious sex but I hoped you enjoyed!! Follow for more :D

[partypoisonzz]

not just in jersey (frank iero x reader smut)

Kinktober 2022 Day 11: Drunk Sex

Era: Pro-Rev (2007)

Word Count: 2,480

Content:

- A tipsy tryst after a party

-Weirdly submissive Frank, yet again

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

-

The door hits the wall as the two of you stumble inside. You pull back, muttering a slurred oh shit before slamming it closed again and returning your attentions to more pressing matters.

Pressing matters just so happen to concern your boyfriend pinning you to the wall. Or attempting to, anyway.

You can't help but laugh against Frank's mouth before pulling away.

He regards you with cloudy, curious eyes, a faint look of bewildered annoyance on his face. "What?"

You attempt to speak through your giggles. "I'm sorry... It's just..." You shift slightly against his hold. "This kinda hurts, y'know? Like... Your ribs are digging into me, but you're grabbing me, like, super hard..." You let out another drunken chuckle. "The curse of having a guitarist's build, I guess."

"Oh." A look of unnecessarily deep contemplation settles over Frank's face before he speaks up again. "Well, why don't we, like... Switch roles?"

You raise an eyebrow at him. "You want me to manhandle you and press you up against a wall?"

He shrugs as though this is a request that he makes every day. "Don't see why not."

"Alright, then." You grin slyly as he backs away, only for you to push him back into the wall with a bit too much force.

Frank gives a slight squeak of surprise before you crush your lips against his once again, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Despite his initial response, he soon melts into your touch, returning your kiss. It's passionate, if more than a bit sloppy. You taste the liquor on his tongue as it brushes against your own.

You want to drink him up like the shots that you sucked down a few hours ago. You don't know if that makes sense, — it probably doesn't, — but it's the one comprehensible thought in your spinning head right now.

"Damn, babe." Frank tilts his head back as your mouth wanders down his neck. The remainder of your lipstick smears across his skin as you leave behind a series of clumsy kisses.

"You like that?" you murmur. "Like when I take control?"

You feel the rumble of his laughter against your mouth. "Don't... don't try to talk dirty right now," he says. "We're too fucked up. You sound ridi— Ow, fuck!" He recoils, running a hand over his neck. "Did you just fucking bite me?"

"Maybe." You laugh quietly before flicking your tongue out, dragging it along the place where you did, indeed, bite him. He responds to this action with a moan, his hand falling away to grip your hip.

"I sound ridiculous, huh?" you mutter in his ear. "Says the guy moaning like a fucking pornstar just because I licked him. How needy can you be, Frankie?"

"Oh, fuck you... Ohfuck—" He tenses as you push your thigh between his legs.

You smile to yourself as you shift slightly, feeling his hard-on through two layers of denim. "Think you ought to be nice to me," you say. "Or it's just gonna be you and your hand..."

"Shut up." He grabs your face and kisses you again. His teeth scrape against the bottom of your lip, and he's maybe getting a little overzealous with the whole tongue thing, but you're just happy that his mouth is on yours.

He pulls away, wild-eyed and panting as he meets your eyes. That image alone is enough to make you want to jump on him, right here and now.

"You wouldn't do that to me."

You grin before giving him another teasing kiss. "Is that a statement or a challenge?"

"A statement," he replies quickly. "And it'd better be a true one."

"Hmm... I don't know." With that, you untangle yourself from him. "I'm hungry... Think a nice drunk snack is in order..."

Frank remains in the foyer as you wander into the kitchen. Still, you would be able to hear his frustrated groan from all the way across the house. "Are you fucking serious?" he calls.

"Serious as death, honey!" you call back, opening the refrigerator.

As soon as you peer inside, you're closing it again. Of course, this is all a ploy. Based on the state of sexually-frustrated inebriation that Frank is currently in, you doubt that he knows that. This is a blessing, considering that, due to your own lack of sobriety, no one except for another drunk person could possibly buy your acting.

"Oh, shit," you say. "You know what I just remembered?"

"What?" Frank grumbles as he walks into the kitchen with obviously tented jeans and a frown.

"I can't eat my drunk snack in my drinking clothes," you respond. "That would be, like, totally disgusting. There were people puking left and right at that party..."

"Go change, then," Frank snaps, dragging one of the chairs out to take a seat.

You frown, leaning against the fridge. "Well, Mr. Attitude," you begin. "I was going to invite you to shower with me. But, seeing as how you're feeling so snippy..."

"Wait, wait, wait." Frank moves to rise from his seat, only to trip over his own feet. Before he can go careening to the floor, you rush to his side, reaching out to steady him.

He sighs as his eyes meet yours, his already-rosy cheeks turning scarlet. "Sorry for being an asshole," he says. "I'm just..."

"All is forgiven, baby." You give him another quick peck before intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him towards the stairs.

"C'mon," you beckon him. "We're gonna take a drunk bath. I'll make sure you don't fall, you'll make sure I don't fall. It's gonna be so much fun."

"Alright, alright..." He struggles to keep up with you as you drag him along. "Hey, slow down... Don't wanna fall down the fucking stairs..."

Somehow, the two of you make it to the top landing without incident. As you collect your clothes and towels, your teasing continues.

"You've got such a mouth on you tonight," you comment, rifling through the dresser drawers for something to wear. You're pretty sure you just grabbed two of Frank's outfits and none of yours, but fuck it. You'll wear it. "Every other word is 'fuck.' So impolite."

"You wanna see what this impolite mouth can do?" He wraps his arms around your waist as you close the drawer, pressing a series of wet, sloppy kisses against your neck. "I could show you, y'know. I could show you right now."

You playfully shove him, trying and failing to bite back your grin. "Is that what this is all about?" you ask. "That's why you apologized? You just wanna get in my pants?"

"No." As soon as you push him away, Frank is essentially attached to you again. This time, he doesn't bring his mouth into the equation for anything other than talking as he rests his cheek against your back. "Wanna... Make love to you. Show you how you make me feel like the luckiest guy in Jersey..."

"Just in Jersey?" you ask before wriggling out of his grip again and stomping towards the bathroom. "Geez, Frank. Thanks a lot."

"Hey! You know I didn't mean it like that." He follows at your heels like a clingy puppy, trailing you into the bathroom.

"Not just in Jersey," he clarifies as you turn on the shower. "You make me feel like the luckiest guy on the whole fucking planet..."

"Language," you cut him off. "And that's just what you know I want to hear..."

"But it's true!" His voice is high with distress. Cute. "I love you so much, and just... God, just look at me, please."

You turn around, only to see him kneeling on the bathroom floor.

Oh.

He is fucking begging at your feet, one hand resting gently against your thigh as he stares up at you with wide, pitiful eyes.

"Please," he says again. It's practically just a whimper at this point. "Please just let me show you how much I love you..."

You look down at him with a snide smile. "Show me how?"

"I'll eat you out," he clarifies quickly. "I'll do it so good, baby. Just... please, please let me..."

Fuck. It's all you can do not to crumple to the ground at the sound of that alone.

You reach down, fingers raking through his hair. "Alright," you say. "Make it up to me."

He reaches up, tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Get down here, then."

You raise an eyebrow. "On the bathroom floor? Really, Frankie?"

"Water's warming up," he insists. "Please..."

"Okay, okay. Christ."

When you left for the party, you didn't think you would end your night, spreadeagle on the bathroom floor with the shower running. Still, you aren't exactly complaining as Frank tugs down your jeans, pressing kisses against your thighs all the while. "So fucking pretty... Love you..."

You close your eyes. As much fun as it would be to chastise him again for cursing, you're already too damn desperate to keep teasing. Besides, you're willing to bet that some four-letter words will leave your mouth by the time this is all over with. "Love you, too," you mutter.

You gasp as he runs his tongue across the damp fabric of your underwear. He looks up at you, seeming to revel in your reaction.

"Such a... tease, Jesus..." You reach down, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. "Get on with it already."

"Got a mouth on you, don't you?" Frank shoots back, nuzzling your thigh. "I *was* going to eat you out, but... Since you're feeling so snippy..."

You groan. "Oh, fuck you."

"Yeah. You're gonna do that." Somehow, despite the fact that he is totally shitfaced, the little fucker manages to pull your underwear down *with his teeth.* What. The. Fuck.

Your expression of pure bewilderment only lasts a second before pure pleasure overtakes you.

You squirm against the cold tile as Frank's tongue runs slowly across your lips. He gives you one, two, three more kitten licks before pulling back, using his fingers to spread you open.

"Fucking gorgeous," he mutters. "Wanna see more of you..."

You let out a loud moan as his tongue dips inside of you before travelling all the way up to your clit.

"Frankie." His name breaks up from your throat, an unspoken plea for him to do whatever, just as long as he's still touching you.

He pulls back. "Shhh... I know..." You shudder as his fingers ghost over your entrance in the absence of his tongue. "Just... Let me make you feel good..."

With that, he dives in again.

He doesn't show you a bit of mercy, — not that you want him to. He's relentless, if not exactly precise, his tongue darting in and out of you before travelling up and back down again.

Regardless of his lack of his usual technique, you come hard after just a few minutes.

You cry out as your orgasm washes over you. Frank stays between your legs, licking until you finally stop shaking.

When he pulls away, lips shining, to meet your eyes, you immediately bark an order at him. "Fuck me."

He raises his eyebrows at you. "On the bathroom floor?" he asks with mock incredulity.

"Yes, you little shit," you snap. "Don't care if the water gets cold. Just fucking... Need you right now."

Frank chuckles before standing up shakily. "I can turn the fucking water off, Jesus. I'm not that fucked up." He reaches into the shower and turns off the faucet before beginning to strip.

You watch, still lying on the floor. You want to run your tongue across every inch of inked skin, pull his too-long hair until he fucking cries, feel him come deep inside of you...

"Alright." He returns to his prior spot. Instantly, you spread your legs, more than prepared for him.

He giggles. "Eager," he comments. "But first..." He tugs at your T-shirt again. "This needs to go. I wanna see all of you."

He attempts to pull your shirt over your head. Alas, considering your position and the fact that you're both still a bit more than tipsy, his effort is to no avail.

"Here." You reach down, attempting to yank the shirt off, only for your elbow to somehow connect with Frank's face.

"Ow!" he exclaims, one hand flying up to his face. "What the fuck, babe?"

"I'm so sorry!" You attempt to pull his hand away from the place that you hit him, — just over his eye, conveniently. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Much to your relief, he's laughing as he drops his hand. "It's okay, it's okay," he assures you. "I deserved that. For fucking the guys up all those times..."

You scoff, crossing your arms over your partially-exposed chest. "What about for being an asshole to me tonight?"

He rolls his eyes. "I deserved that for a number of reasons," he concedes before pressing his lips to yours again and lining himself up with your entrance.

You can feel the head of his cock pressing against you as he pulls away. He hesitates, reaching out to brush the hair from your face. "This okay?" he asks quietly.

You nod fervently. "More than okay."

"Good." His lips meet yours again as he pushes inside of you.

He kisses you sweeter and slower than he has all evening, despite the fact that he's fucking you at a pace that isn't exactly tender.

You don't mind at all. In fact, you look forward to the thumb-shaped bruises that will surely be appearing on your hips in the morning, as well as the delicious soreness from lying on the floor.

"Fuck." The word leaves Frank's lips as some combination of a groan and a whimper as his hands wander up to your chest. "Don't give a fuck that I couldn't get your shirt off, just let me..."

You mentally thank your past self for not wearing a bra tonight as he attacks your tits with his mouth and hands, kneading and licking and sucking.

You dig your fingers into his back, letting out a high-pitched moan as he drives into you harder.

"Gonna come," he announces just before his head falls to your shoulder. "Oh, God..."

You hold him close as he shudders against you, letting out a guttural groan. You sigh quietly, feeling the warmth spreading inside of you.

Frank relaxes against you with a slight huff. You rub lazy circles against his back, his skin cool with sweat. "Still feeling so lucky, now that I've elbowed you in the eye?"

He laughs. "The luckiest," he says. "It's an honor to be elbowed in the eye by you. No other poor bastard gets the privilege."

"Alright then, Luckiest Guy in Jersey." You plant a kiss against his cheek. "Let's get a shower for real. We're definitely too gross to have our drunk snack now."

-

Taglist (Ask to be included!):

@mysunfishpeedinmyroom @xocasper @clichedlovers @enchantinghouseofwh0res @yachiiko @dangerouslittlefairy @deadlovers

[tame-a-messenger]

too long for comment so I am going into ask box again

I am kinda sad how the handled sword AF so far in general and are STILL handling it. Even if the answer is "hey, we are not sure when sword AF will return/we are uncertain about the future of it in general,". It would be so much better to get than just silence. Also, I get that it kind of underperformed, and it must be one of the most expansive things to produce. So yeah, it kind of underperformed slightly in a Smosh context, but it had SO FUCKING MUCH FANWORK. Like, fewer people cared about it, but the people that did care A LOT. Which, like, you can tap into that to finance it. For example, I feel like sword AF merch would perform really well.

We can't know, but if we are not getting Sword AF for financial reasons, that would be so stupid. Because I don't think it has to be that way.

This is all just wild speculating when it comes down to it, and the reasons are definitely more complicated that (time is very likely a BIG factor as well)

Typically, I am really not a fan of guessing and speculating based on so little, but because it is about a show, I give myself a pass haha

*Rattling at the gates of Smosh HQ, "WILL SWORD AF RETURN FROM THE WAR???"

(Additional thing: In a way it was kinda funny they announced that sword AF wasn't going to happen hours after it was supposed to drop. Like were they actually surprised people cared about it??? Haha. )

That's what I find so disrespectful about all this. They haven't said a peep about Sword AF since they delayed it.

I understand that the views didn't do SUPER amazingly well, but they didn't do worse than a lot of other content they've put out? The first ep of S1 got 1.4mil and over the whole 9 eps it got a total of 4.7mil views? (I'm including the "Movie"-comp of all the eps - it had 403k)

The least viewed video (weirdly) is the final ep. I think it's because a lot of people fell off watching it. Keep in mind, they uploaded episodes every two weeks, which I'm willing to bet is a big reason why a lot of people stopped watching.

I feel like most first seasons of D&D campaigns don't start out with crazy views, it's expected to gain traction the more it goes on? That's how I feel.

I agree that running a D&D campaign does take a lot of effort and (from what I've heard) takes a lot of world building and really is a huge time sucker, I can see how they would want need more time to work on it (giving only 3-4 months to write a whole season in-between doing voice over/other freelance work sounds like a lot) so wanting more time I understand. It's just that they haven't given any updates or talked about it AT ALL, that's what's really weird.

SO many people love Sword AF! There was so much fan art! and everyone was talking about it in fan spaces!

Like it was so loved! and I know a lot of table top/D&D people are LOADED, and they would 100% buy even the worst looking merch because of how much they liked the series! (I would by something with Rumpum on it! That sounds so fucking cute!) so I don't see there being any real reason not to do a S2 except either they don't have the time to write it/or are just generally really busy, or some totally unknown reason behind the scenes??

At the end of the day it is just really bizarre to me that they haven't mentioned it at all? like not a peep?

"(Additional thing: In a way it was kinda funny they announced that sword AF wasn't going to happen hours after it was supposed to drop. Like were they actually surprised people cared about it??? Haha. )"

(Was it not the exact time it was supposed to be uploaded? I remember waiting for it and seeing the community post notif at the exact time it was supposed to drop? or maybe 15mins after? either way-)

That was such a slap in the face. It hurts worse now that it's been enough time that I can be certain there was NO WAY it was even close to being finished (or maybe even started?) They really waited till the absolute last- no, PAST the last second to let us know it wasn't dropping. What a way to shit in the face of the people that cared.. (I literally cleared my schedule to be able to watch it and was waiting for the clock to hit 1pm (I live est) thinking I was gonna spend at least an hour watching the new ep.. I can only imagine how many other people had gotten stuff set up to watch, that got fucked with.)

I do want a S2, I want them to say something about it at least. And they BETTER apologize about how they handled it.

[lesbiandanhowell]

Sam (begrudgingly) reacts to: Dan and Phil play Poppy Playtime CHAPTER 2!

I fucking hate horror games and I am have a high anxiety day so this is like awful timing BUT HERE GOES NOTHING.

- Not a fan of the runtime because I don't enjoy horror so the longer the worse for me personally so fuck this actually oops

- Babes I am literally shaking and almost crying 4 minutes in this will not be fun lmao (but also I know my anxiety won't go away without dan and phil content so might as well hope they will be funny and cute enough to make me calm down).

- I hate this I want to cry UPDATE: I literally started crying right after this, about 8 minutes into the game, but it got better afterwards.

- The touch when saying 'we have to be brave' was very personal to me. (Someone give me someone to watch this with and hold me please because I am scared)

- The buttplug jokes being the only thing to make me laugh, thank you Phil. Dan what do you MEAN "tails in" in reference to buttplugs, did you see the unhinged shit we said on tumblr, because oh god please no.

- "What are we going to do now?" "Cry" Phil gets me actually thank you I feel seen.

- The color game is actually calming my anxiety SO much it's hilarious, like it's just logic and following patterns and those things are so calming even when Dan is screaming.

- "For our lesbian audience that has mommy issues this is gonna be a weird episode" YOU DONT SAY DAN YOU DONT SAY

- new lore alert: Phil going to a wrestling party

- Phil lore: he was afraid of the KFC man as a kid

- PINOF MENTION AND CLIP AHAHA, they love doing these references since they uploaded the first react video.

- Dan hiding in his hoodie is adorable, like he just fully went "nope!" and hid haha.

- I think you can see Phil's hand shaking in the whack a mole, like the camera was SO shakey which was either his inability to use a mouse or he was shaking, place your bets.

- Dan playing the mini game after all, Phil is never beating the younger brother stereotype truly.

- When did they film all of these that their heating is still broken?! Makes me think they really did pre-film most of these to have a less stressful time now during december, which good job guys!

- Mommy's voice reminds me of someone else in a tv show but I can't figure out what? Anyone know?

- Their delighted faces at seeing jacksepticeye are adorable, like you could tell they were so happy truly and I love these little easter eggs!

- "Sean you down there?" HOWLING

- They edited so many clips and memes into this (which makes me think they edited it rather than an editor) haha

- Phil just, maybe unconsciously, moving impossibly closer to Dan is a big mood (only I am alone rip).

- Weirdly enough the mini games are the most calming part for me, like there is a clear focus and clear objective of what to do and it's like: here is a problem, solve it and I think that does wonders for me.

- Unsure if I am shaking from anxiety or being cold (also great I have more uni work to do after watching this)

- Yes please sanitize my boobs. What

- I agree Phil, we have gotten a lot of lore (about you)!

- Phil's panicked "geese!" gets me every time because it's so cute.

- "I feel kinda bad" aw ofc you do Phil and ofc you don't Dan, so very in character for both of them honestly.

- "Sometime in 2023, so not much longer" Phil, honey, there are like 20 days left what do you mean?!

This actually wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, after I had my little cry at the beginning. I was actually quite calm by the end and I think my anxiety actually is less, which I didn't think would happen. The magic of Dan and Phil, see you tomorrow!

[anangelwhodidntfall]

Different: Eddie Munson

Stranger Things Masterlist 

word count: 980

Request:  :D !! I was wondering if you could do an angsty eddie fic inspired by the scene nancy and steve shared at the Halloween party

It had never really both you that you and Eddie ran with different crowds because it didn't seem to mess with the relationship you two had because, at the end of the day, not all couples had the same friends. Sure you hung out with people like Nancy Wheeler and didn't really drink or do anything because none of that appealed to you while Eddie smoked pot well anything really and was kinda seen as a freak or nerd depending on who you asked. 

Ever since Eddie got home you could tell something up, he was a lot less affectionate and less talkative than he normally was. It was so bad that you couldn't even focus on your homework in front of you because usually Eddie's talking usually provided you with enough background noise to help you focus.

 "Hey bubs, is everything okay?" You asked turning and looking at him. 

"Yeah, why?" He said looking over at you. "It's just that you've been acting weird today and I'm worried is all." You said looking at him. "It's just that.....do you find it weird how we are complete opposites?" He asked you making you look at him weirdly. 

"What do you mean Eds?" You asked him confused at why he was even asking this. "

It's just that we run with different crowds and I like you drink and smoke while you are repulsed by it. I don't know I just feel lucky to even have gotten a chance to date you....sometimes I think you deserve better than me." He said breaking your heart. 

"Eddie where is this..." You started to say but he cut you off. 

"Just forget I said anything." He said dismissing you while you sat there upset that he thought you deserved better than him because no matter how different he was from you, you did love him. 

By the time the weekend rolled around, you were still thinking about everything had said when Nancy mentioned she would be at Steve's party and that you and Eddie should come and you told her you would come already forming a plan to show Eddie that you two weren't so different. 

"Hey sweetheart, Hey Nancy." Eddie said wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your lips.

"Hey Eddie, y/n was just letting me know that she was going to be at Steve's party after all." Nancy said making Eddie look at you confused because you weren't the party type. 

“You are?" Eddie asked confused. "Yeah could be fun." You said shrugging your shoulders.

The second Eddie left you with Nancy to go handle a deal is when you started drinking. You were on about your third cup when Eddie returned and was concerned when he saw you holding a cup in your hand. "Y/n give me that." He said as you shook your head no and moved away from him and chugging your drink. 

"Y/n, seriously?" He said you handed him the empty cup not sure why you were acting like this. 

"Leave me alone! I'm just trying to enjoy myself!" You poured yourself a new cup as Eddie chased you through the crowd worried about you. 

Eddie was frustrated and pulled you into the bathroom so he could talk to you and figure out why you were acting like this. 

"What now? Your acting like my parent instead of my boyfriend." You said whining.

 "What is your problem? Huh? You never act like this." Eddie asked you as you laughed at him.

 "This is what you wanted, don't you remember?" You said making him look at you confused. 

"You said that you deserved better than old good girl y/n who doesn't drink or smoke, so here I am trying to do that and impress you and even that's not good enough." You said annoyed leaving the bathroom. 

"Y/N!" You heard Eddie calling out after you but you ignored him. 

"Y/N." He called out again as you made your way to the front door prepared to leave. 

You finally reached outside and made your way down the stairs only due to the amount of alcohol you've consumed did you miss a step and make you fall and twist your ankle. Eddie heard you fall and rushed over to you. 

"Come on let's get you, home sweetheart." He said picking you up and carrying you to the van. 

The last thing you remember was Eddie placing you in the van and that was it because you were out like a light. Meanwhile, Eddie was worried and felt guilty that he let you think that you had to drink to continue being with him, he heard some movement from down the hall and that's when you appeared in the kitchen. 

"I feel like I've been hit with a bus." You said making him laugh as you took a seat next to him as he handed you some aspirin and water. 

"You know that when I brought that stuff up about us being different I didn't mean it in a bad way that you had to go out and drink. I was having one of those days where my insecurities got the best of me and I didn't give a chance to answer and I'm sorry about that." He said reaching for your hand. 

"Well I was going to tell you that no one gets to tell me what I deserve not even you, I love you, Eddie, no matter how different we are, that's one of the things I love about us. You Eddie Munson are the love of my life and your not allowed to go anywhere." You said wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"Mhmm is that so?" He asked you with a smile. 

"Very much so." You said kissing him. 

"I guess it's a good thing that I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon." He said placing another kiss on your lips.

[mykatsudon]

Ooof I am also in my feelings about YOI. I can't believe I actually watched it as it was airing. I was still a teen and related to Yurio the most, now I come back to watch it and I'm older than Yuri!! And he's so relatable, it's like I was missing a whole part of YOI then suddenly I rewatch as an adult feeling weirdly sentimental despite that year being pretty bad for me and just oooofffffff.

I was tearing up constantly. Like when I watched as it came out I thought Victor seemed kinda cold and far away and I liked Yuri well-enough but thought he got over his anxiety quickly, my main focus was Yurio. Now going back it's just holy shit, I lived Yuri's life, minus the sporting achievements lol but I felt everything he felt, and Victor too was so much more interesting, clearly so much going on under the surface and profound loneliness covered up with a cheerful facade. I can't believe how different it was to rewatch years later at a different age. I still love Yurio too but now it feels like oh god please someone help this child rather than relating to him.

I remember even thinking at the time later that maybe it was overrated but going back to it now is just like god, no it wasn't at all, it really *was* that great, it really *did* deserve the hype. And I don't really know where I'm going with this but I just wanted to share it with someone bc I was never really that involved in the fandom and it's kinda died off now and I have no one to say it too in irl so it's just my farewell ig to YOI. Like I love that I can rewatch it but the whole hype around it at the time was so cool, it reminded me of watching shows on tv then talking about it at school the next day. Like it somehow re-created that experiance but even better bc it was sooo many people all at once. It was just so optimistic and sweet, and I feel weirdly sad now whenever I see anything about it. I almost wish it had done multiple seasons and movies and milked it for all its worth so I could just move on from it like anything else but now everytime I see it I'm suddenly thrown back to being a teen and comparing my life from then to now and suddenly remember every emotion I was feeling, it's so brutal.

This is overlong and kinda clumsy but basically I want to send the show off somehow like kiss it on it's cheeks and wave goodbye but I don't know how so I'm writing this all to you. Please don't feel pressured to reply, I know I've sent paragraphs. But if you do want to anyway, I'd love to hear all and any thoughts you have about YOI and what it was for you. I feel strangely lonely about it now bc I never had irl friends who watched it and I never paticipated in fandom. Now I'm like, idk mourning it, on my own. YOI coincided with a little bubble of time where I was relatively happy and hopeful, It's hard to let just that go now.

I understand you. I was 16 when yoi aired and I was actually waiting for it's release months before because the trailer seriously caught my attention, so I've been here since before the first ep was even out. To this day I count being able to watch Yuri on ice as it aired as one of the most positive experiences of my life. When yoi came out, I was in a particularly dark spot in my life, and this anime was my anchor through and through. It taught me the power a piece of media can have on a person as I do believe I couldn't have pulled through that year if yoi hadn't come in to save me at the last minute.

I remember it being so fun, I actually don't think I've ever had more fun with any other piece of media, it was magical.

It was many combining factors too; the fact that yoi is an original anime so every single Wednesday we had no idea what we were getting, the fact that yoi was so original in it's story and heavily deviates from your average sports anime, the huge community that formed around the series, making theories, trending #1 on Tumblr every single Wednesday and of course, the fact that there was actually a love story playing out between Victor and Yuri and that we as the audience got to experience it. l wonder if people truly understand how unique that is. This anime really went above and beyond all my expectations. It fed me too well and spoiled me too much.

I miss Yuri on ice in the way one misses a high they know they'll never obtain again, and I chased that high the remainder of my teenage years.

Having this blog, making friends, talking about the series, eagerly waiting for every Wednesday and having something to look forward to like that, I don't know If I'll ever experience it again. I don't think so. It really feels like the planets aligned for me to enjoy yoi to it's full potential. No one in this world can understand how much this series means to me, how close it is to my heart.

People who didn't watch it while it aired or who weren't in fandom have no idea how it felt. To this day, it was unlike anything I've ever encountered in fandom. It really is a "you just had to be there" kind of experience.

To say I miss it dearly would be a huge understatement. But I've been grieving yoi for the past 4 years. I'm currently in the acceptance phase. Whatever happens, happens. I agree with you that I wish they would've milked the series for all it's worth and we were on season 2 with a movie coming out soon. But that's just a selfish desire. What I wished the most is they hadn't played with my heart like that and gave me hope. I wish they came out and said "this project is over, sorry". I do believe something went deeply wrong in production, as you may have seen in my essays I've written on this subject.

I controversially believe Mappa is not entirely at fault and that this is something to do with the creators. It just makes no logical sense for Mappa to can yoi when it not only saved their studio, it's one of their best selling anime, pulling in crazy numbers. It even outsold Chainsawman. I think that if it were up to them we would be on Yuri on ice S3.

but enough especulating, what I mean to say is:

Allow yourself to mourn and say goodbye to a piece of media that greatly impacted your life. I think the best thing to do is to redirect those feelings you have towards gratitude.

I'm grateful for the memories we made together and the incredible chance they gave me to run a blog that had 25k+ Yuri on ice fans in it's prime, for the friends I made. I feel like I had a lot of fun and enjoyed every bit.

I will forever look forward to anything yuri on ice related, but if this is the end then so be it.

you gave me a long ask, I gave you a long answer.

Thank you for your heartfelt message.

[cloud-fairy-boy]

Ed tips that’ll keep you safe and skinny because we all know we won’t stop until we get there so let’s make sure that we make it there alive with functioning organs <3

Do NOT get an ed/4na etc buddy

I know this sounds weird but bear with me. I’m not saying “don’t make friends within the ed community” ofc by all means let’s be friends but it’s extremely dangerous to “encourage each other” to st4rve and shit even when it’s done unknowingly or with the intent of “help and support”. What we’re doing is already dangerous so let’s not encourage each other any further. When I was my lowest I had a real life bff that also had an ed and we would encourage each other and compete knowingly or unknowingly. It’s not a good relationship. Just be friends in a normal way idk send memes and vent every once in a while

Don’t chew too much gum

Yes, gum is amazing gum is awesome sometimes we use it as a meal substitute but 1) it weirdly has a lot of sugar in it and if you’re the type to switch to a new gum once the taste is gone you could be getting a lot of calories unknowingly. I once finished a pack of gum in one day and it racked up to 100 calories. That’s not worth spending on sugar you should eat some cucumber or something nutritious instead 2) it can definitely give you cavities if you go overboard because of the sugar 3) it can cause di4rrhe4 when consumed excessively 4) it can upset your stomach and cause aches if you chew on it for a very long time

Go out & drink water

We’re just houseplants with complicated emotions and childhood trauma. It’s important to get enough vitamin D for your bones to compensate for all the nutrients we miss out on. Also we don’t want to be depressed we just want to be sk1nni so don’t stay holed up in your room all day. Go out and move your body + if you eat 100 cals and just lay in bed all day you won’t be able to lose weight effectively because then your body will get into starvation mode and hang onto the fat in the body. Instead eat a bit more to gain some energy and burn it by being outside even if it’s just a walk. Actually walking is the best exercise especially for ed people but some of us aren’t ready for that conversation lmao

And for water you gotta have it frequently and have it plenty. But not too much all at once because you can d1e. I don’t remember the whole thing but you can look it up I know there’s been a recorded case of someone dy1ing from drinking too much water at once. But other than that if you struggle to drink water because you don’t like the taste etc I won’t tell you to put more shit in it to make it taste better because let’s all accept that putting fruit and water together makes them both nasty. Instead put your water into a relatively small but long bottle that can easily bend. Then while the bottle is in your mouth (bear with me ik it sounds super weird rn) put the bottle on a higher surface but not too high or you could choke on it. Just enough for water to flow into your mouth. Then you let go of the bottle and DONT TOUCH IT this way you will have no choice but to drink the whole thing. And dw you won’t drown because you can obviously stop to breathe between sips and you don’t have to do it quickly AND YOU CAN OBVIOUSLY TAKE THE BOTTLE AND JUST STOP DOING IT this is just something I’ve came up with to drink more water it makes it kinda like a carnival game idk lmao

If you feel like you’re about to faint don’t push it and give in

Okay now we all probably know how it feels to faint. But we also know that it kinda comes in waves. You can definitely feel that you’re gonna faint at least 20 minutes before it happens. So unless you’re in the middle of a fucking road where cars go and shit just stop on your tracks and sit down. In a store, at school, at the gym, in the bus etc literally no one gives a shit. It’s better to get some dust on your butt than to hit your head somewhere and d1e.

Have an emergency kit on you at all times

This is not a fucking anti binge box no it’s for actual health emergencies. In it you will have pads for surprise periods (let’s all admit that none of us have them regularly at this point so every time is a surprise) OR big wounds and nosebleeds. We’re already malnourished so when we loose blood it’s even more dangerous. You’ll also put water, candy, protein bars (I recommend kinds that you actively hate or ones that taste bad and no I don’t mean rotten or stuff you’re allergic to this is just to keep us from eating them unless we absolutely need them) in case you faint. I also recommend a little slip of paper with a trusted friend or family member’s number, your blood type, chronic illnesses and allergies etc in case you faint and need medical help while you’re unconscious

Don’t wear your binder too much

This is for my fellow binder buddies (god this sounded like a corporate slogan I hate it). It’s already very dangerous to use binders for more than 6 hours at a time but when you’re already low on nutrients and probably running around in hopes of burning calories you DEFINITELY shouldn’t wear your binder AT ALL. Instead opt for a sports bra while you’re exercising or you’re especially low on food that day. I know it’s very difficult to live with body dysmorphia AND dysphoria but we want to stay alive so we gotta do our best.

This was all for today peeps if there’s anything you want advice on put them in the rbs or comments I’ll read all of them like the morning paper. Stay safe, alive and hydrated

[takitafulily]

Can I pull these TWST Characters? (& would their parents approve?)

Realistic answer is no for everyone but one can dream-

Inspired by mod A at @imaginefandomheadcanons!

Riddle Rosehearts - Yes we can bond over mommy issues and I would hyperfixate on learning all of Queen of Heart's Rules Trey Clover - Maybe? I mean I like baking but he's a bit too much of an enigma for me to figure out Cater Diamond - 50/50 I can see his insecurities under that loud facade but I don't know if I'm right for him Ace Trappola - No he's a bit too mean for me even if he's joking I would probably take it to heart Deuce Spade - Yes he's already flustered around girls and I understand his shame for disappointing his mom

Leona Kingscholar - Maybe? I can understand his frustration with always being second best and eventually giving up on trying but I find it hard to imagine he'd take a interest in me romantically Ruggie Bucchi - 50/50 he's kinda tricky to get close to but I understand what it's like to be scared of not being able to put food on the table and know that richer people will always be better off no matter what Jack Howl - Yes I can sit on the sidelines and be his biggest supporter but wolves are quite possessive and a bit of miscommunication can end the whole thing

Azul Ashengrotto - No but I want to- He probably won't drop his walls enough for me to get through but god damn it I'll fucking try Jade Leech - 50/50 I can't really understand him as much as I want to, he's kinda like Trey but more dangerous, I'll be in the mountain lover's club to genuinely learn from him tho so who knows Floyd Leech - Maybe yes? It'll only last a day, I'm probably not interesting enough to keep his attention on me but I can kinda relate to his impulsiveness

Kalim Al Asim - Yes but I might not be able to keep up with his energy Jamil Viper - No but I want to- Drop your fucking walls and let me through damnit-

Vil Schoenheit - No he's too high maintenance for me, my inner curiosity wants to learn all the skin routines from him but I don't think I can keep up with his drive of working to be the best Rook Hunt - Yes and weirdly I can appreciate it Epel Felmier - Maybe? idk how to explain this one

Idia Shroud - YES MARRY ME WE ARE PEOPLE OF THE SAME KIND

Malleus Draconia - Yes not only because of Yuu but I can relate to the feeling of loneliness and being left out because you're the odd one out, also we can hyperfixate on gargoyles together Lilia Vanrouge - Yes now this amount of energy I can handle, also we can reminisce together, time is both cruel and merciful Silver Vanrouge - Yes I can take care of him when he falls asleep and match with his gentleness Sebek Zigvolt - Maybe? I have sensitive hearing so I can't take his shouting all day but I get his drive of wanting to protect people he cares about

Say I did pull them, would their parents approve?

Riddle Rosehearts - No, a magicless person is a magicaless person no matter how good their grades are, and it'll backfire if my grades are better than Riddle's Trey Clover - Yes, Clover parents are such sweethearts Cater Diamond - Yes but keep his sisters away from me I am only selectively clingy Ace Trappola - Yes they'd probably have too much fun teasing me Deuce Spade - Yes Spade mama is a big softy I love her

Leona Kingscholar - No they probably wants Leona to benefit the kingdom by marrying royalty from another kingdom, also no blood-related children Ruggie Bucchi - Yes grandmas love me, plus I'm bringing some homemade food Jack Howl - Maybe? They'd probably already talk about marriage and I'd feel pretty uncomfortable

Azul Ashengrotto - Yes they'd be happy that Azul's finally found someone who accepts him as he is Jade Leech - 50/50 They'd probably think I'm too innocent Floyd Leech - 50/50

Kalim Al Asim - No even as part of his harem they'd want someone beneficial, also no blood-related children Jamil Viper - Yes they're glad Jamil found someone who understands him but they wouldn't want to continue the Viper servant line

Vil Schoenheit - No my work drive can't keep up with the whole family plus my looks are average Rook Hunt - Maybe? They're too much of a mystery to me Epel Felmier - Yes Meema would love me

Idia Shroud - Maybe? Idk I haven't played through Chapter 6 yet but I have a vague idea

Malleus Draconia - No grandma Maleficent would prefer Malleus marry some royalty, also no blood-related heir Lilia Vanrouge - I'd have to obtain the ability to talk to the dead first Silver Vanrouge - Yes I'm calm enough for Silver but I can vibe with Lilia, also grandbabies (stolen adopted because I don't want to give birth thank you) Sebek Zigvolt - Yes his parents would probably find it funny that the human kink passed on

[leonawriter]

In my last ideas/prompt post I was all "If I were going to write this out fully, I'd not just get into where Aoko is, but involve her directly" and like... yeah.

It's easy to things of Situations to put Kaito and Hakuba in, because for one thing, Hakuba already knows about Kid, so there's none of that "how does he react" drama to think of, and for another... the tension is definitely there in a way that easily translates into "and yeah, the UST exists and they're hormonal teenagers so something is bound to happen at some point."

Plus, it's just. Well, it's fun!

But then my mind unfailingly goes "But Aoko." Because I loved Kaito/Aoko first and I can't imagine a world where Kaito loves Aoko less (and even if it's not romantic, I like seeing him still have something special with her).

It's things like "Aoko has noticed that her best friend and crush is acting weird with their favourite detective friend, and actually, isn't that a lot like how he treats her? Doesn't Kaito look like he's more comfortable around Hakuba than he is around Aoko? Does... does Kaito not like Aoko anymore... or did he even at all..."

And it's things like "Kaitou Kid got hurt and sure Hakuba knows, but all Aoko knows is that he's taking a few days slacking off from school, and if he takes any longer to feel better she's going to start worrying and she's going to be the only one of the three who doesn't know what's going on."

It's... "Lately, Aoko's been feeling weirdly left out, like Kaito and Hakuba-kun have something they're sharing that Aoko isn't part of, but that can't be true, right? After all, Aoko knows Kaito best. Or... she thought she did."

Aoko has so many insecurities. We see Kaito tell her in "Kaito's Busy Day" that, "Who'd want to go out with an ugly girl like you?" and she just goes "I... know that... but..." which really. Ow!

So I guess that for one thing, I want to keep the aspects of the (canon) ship that I've always loved, but I also see this girl who's been made to feel (possibly by Kaito's own tsundere "won't admit what I feel" issues) like she's not attractive, and... have her realise that this isn't the case at all, and Kaito really does care about and love her, that his feelings for Hakuba don't make his feelings for her any less for them.

I also... love the idea of seeing Kaito having to go from being over the moon because the detective who's been chasing him is his now, to realising that the boat's been rocked and the status quo has changed, and he has to choose between either being honest with Aoko about at least his feelings for her - or losing her entirely, and realising what that'd do to him.

Funnily enough, I feel like they work as a trio ship because they even each other out, and they feel like the kind of people where as long as they're communicating clearly, if one is gone or if there's a problem, they can talk it out with the others and sort it out. And unlike some ships with more than two people, I kinda see Aoko as the only one with issues about seeing her significant other with someone else sometimes, and I feel like that'd ease off over time.